


Bored Games

by Anonymous



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alliteration, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Loud Sex, M/M, Missionary Position, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Slash, Spanking, drake is a thot, drakepad, launchpad is a patient beautiful cinnamon roll, they're so fucking domestic it kills me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Drake and Launchpad's daughter Gosalyn is sleeping over at a friend's house, so they're alone for the night, and decide to take advantage of it.WARNING:  This is PORN.  Specifically, slash porn.  There's no two ways about this, people--it's explicit descriptions of cartoon characters having sex.  So, if you're not here for two domestic ducks from the Disney Freaking Afternoon getting it on, then please avoid this fic.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Drake's POV

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is the story from Drake's perspective. In the beginning, it might be unclear whether or not he and LP are even a thing, but Drake's thinking that way intentionally just to rile himself up (similar to pretending your significant other whom you've been with for YEARS is a Mysterious Stranger).
> 
> The second chapter is the same story from Launchpad's perspective. He is more matter of fact about all of it, but goes along with DW's games because he loves him.
> 
> I wrote this with the 1991 characterizations in mind, but it might be possible to imagine the newer versions of the characters in this too, maybe?

"Heh, heh, looks like it's gonna be just us tonight, right, DW?"

Launchpad beamed down at me, his eyes kind. As always, he was so handsome it made me feel a little sick. My stomach churned a bit, and suddenly, I could feel heat rising up from my collar. Hmm. Gosalyn has probably been messing with the thermostat again.

He motioned for me to come with him and sit next to him on the couch so we could watch some TV together. I raised an eyebrow but complied to his wishes. There was nowhere else to sit, anyway, unless you count the two armchairs that led to the tower. They were on the other side of the room and I didn’t really use them otherwise. I suppose I _could_ have sat on the far end of the couch, but I chose to sit closer to the middle. It was all so that I could see the TV better, of _course_. LP was closer to the middle too, but he always takes up half the couch, so it wasn't _my_ fault our legs were touching. A couple of times my hand brushed his, not _intentionally_ , of course. Finally—I wasn’t expecting it though—he took my hand in his. He gave me a soft smile, and I could feel a flush sweep over me again. Seriously, maybe wearing a sweater year-round wasn't really the best idea. LP turned back to the TV, engrossed in that goofy show of his. There'd be a lame pun here, a dated joke there, and he giggled at each, eyes shining with joy. I didn't care one iota about this show, but well, I didn't mind leaving it on. LP's reactions were far more entertaining than any of the drivel on TV. I allowed myself to covertly gaze at him instead.

During a commercial, LP turned back to me, a quizzical look on his face. "You're kind of quiet tonight, DW.."

Instantly I prickled. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Oh, gee, well. I know you hate _Pelican’s Island_ , but you haven't said anything. Usually by this point you’d’ve roasted the whole cast by now.” I nodded, conceding his point. _They’re so inane they deserve every bit of vitriol_ , I thought. 

“Anyway, I thought maybe there's something on your mind?" Then, he placed a hand on top of mine, which I had forgotten was still clutching his other one from before. He rubbed my hand between both of his much larger ones, which certainly didn't feel _terrible_ , I had to admit. I could only look agape at him.

He clicked off the TV—even though it was right in the middle of his favorite show—and suddenly it was just us, with no distractions. 

"Everything alright? Do you.. _want_ anything? " Looking at me with slightly murky eyes, his kind tone held traces of something smoldering underneath. I squirmed as I felt his hot gaze wash over me. Then he whispered, "We could do something _else_ if you want…"

Now usually, other than watching TV, LP liked to play board games with Gos and me. Gosalyn was inflicting her special form of chaos at a friend's house tonight, so we couldn't play with her (I silently reminded myself to later apologize to the parents for whatever she broke and hope to God they didn't want me to pay to replace it). When it was just LP and I, we usually played some sort of card game or checkers (chess, of course, was out of the question since LP didn’t get it—and _no_ , it wasn't because I didn't understand it either, _thankyouverymuch_ ).

Yet LP, who as you recall, had shockingly turned off his beloved _Pelican’s Island_ — was for some strange reason making no move to get the board or anything else, and was instead just giving me a rather pointed, sleepy-eyed and kind of wolfish, hungry look, the sort that gets your attention _real_ quick. It was a simmering hot stare that instantly heated up my loins, and even though he hadn’t said anything out loud, I could almost hear him drawl, _Gee, DW, how bout I take you on up to bed?_ But clearly, no _sleeping_ would be involved.

I apparently wasn’t ready for that sort of look, because I suddenly felt like I had participated in a ghost pepper eating contest and my face had subsequently erupted from the flames. I slipped my hand from between his and leapt off the couch. LP just looked at me expectantly, as if he was used to and was simply waiting for me to finish freaking out. Par for the course, I guess. Gos and LP often pointed out, to my chagrin, that I was always freaking out about _something_.

"W-wow, it's a little hot in here, right? I think I'll go check the thermostat," I sputtered, and as calmly as one could flee, I bolted way past said contraption into the kitchen. I went to the sink and splashed some water on my face. Maybe I was coming down with a fever. It certainly wasn’t flu season, but how else could I rationalize my physical ailment? There was absolutely no way that I was having a reaction to…Launchpad, right? What did the kids call it these days? _Thirsty?_

I turned around, only to run smack into LP’s chest, ridiculously broad and muscular as it was. My hands moved to push him away, but they stubbornly lingered on his pectorals. Hard and defined. _Mmm_. Unconsciously licking my lips, tentatively I looked up at him.

"You OK, DW? I'm a little worried about you," he said with concern, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders. The slight touch jolted me with electricity. Shit, did I just moan a little? If I _was_ sick, these were some pretty weird symptoms.

"I, err, I'm okay, LP. I just feel a little overheated."

"You do look a bit flushed, DW. But if that's the case, why didn't you turn the thermostat down? You ran right by it."

 _Dammit, he noticed that_. "Force of habit, I guess. Keeping it at exactly the same temperature…that's what dads do, right?" I shrugged, nervously smiling up at LP. He didn't look convinced. His hands then dropped, rubbing the front of my sweater vest. Even through the fabric, his touch set my skin aflame. I gulped, hopefully not too loudly.

"Well, you could always take this off if you don't want to mess with the thermostat," he said, tugging at my sweater a little.

 _I mean, maybe you could do it **for** me, big guy,_ an increasingly insistent voice internally echoed in my head. _Nonono_ , I shook my head, and Launchpad raised an eyebrow at me, likely confused as to what the hell I was doing. _I'm sick, not_ —I raked my gaze over Launchpad, noting his ample muscles and casting a quick, wistful glance at the thick bulge between his legs— _giving in to my baser urges. Right?_

"I-it's part of a whole ensemble, LP. I have to wear it with my signature salmon shirt," I protested. "This look falls apart if the shirt's without the vest or vice versa."

His large hands roamed down my sides, ending at the bottom edge of my sweater. I could feel not unpleasant shivers running up my spine. In all likelihood, my fever was worsening. Yeah, that's what it was. A _fever_.

He hooked a couple of fingers under the hem. "Ya know, to not, uh, make your look fall apart, you could just take it _all_ off." Saying that, LP looked a bit flushed himself.

"If I did that, LP, then I would be naked and that would be..."

I trailed off, blushing even harder at the thought of being naked in front of him, here in our kitchen. Suddenly I had a vision of him, bending me over the countertop and fu— _oh shiiit_. The fever was spreading, downward now. I could feel myself starting to really sweat.

"Hot?" He offered as an ending to my previous sentence, and pulled up my shirt a little, so my stomach was exposed. One hand wandered over it, caressing my waist gently, as the other more naughtily snaked behind me, fondling my bottom and petting my tail feathers, sending yet another delicious jolt of electricity through my veins. All the while, his gaze was locked onto mine, and the air was so charged it felt like we were mere seconds away from locking lips, among other things. 

_Grr…oh, fuck it._ I couldn't play coy anymore. The beautiful lug forced it out of me. So, dear reader, it turns out that I’m not really sick, I’ve been in a relationship with this man for _quite a while now_ , and I can't blame the thermostat or anything else for me just plain being horny, thirsty, whatever you want to call it. So sue me. But I _swear_ I'm not a perv, _really_. 

Abandoning my demure act, I roughly grabbed Launchpad's scarf and yanked the obscenely tall bastard down to where us mortals live, and proceeded to devour him, face first. He seemed just as hungry, as his tongue licked forcefully against mine. He tasted vaguely of bubblegum, reminding me of summers past and the blissful leisure of youth. His soft touch on my bottom turned into rough, insistent squeezes. I scratched at his chest, and growling into his mouth, I threw my arms around his neck. Taking my hint that I was ready for liftoff, he picked me up, hooking his arms under my legs, supporting my weight with his hands up under my bottom. He carefully carried me upstairs as we kept wildly licking into each other’s mouths, with him only pausing briefly whenever I would distract him with a particularly deft use of my tongue. He would then retaliate with a few slaps to my rear, as if he was punishing me for being naughty, which just turned me on even more. Hence more tongue from me and more spanks from him. For my part, I managed to throw him off guard at least six times using just my tongue before we even got to the bedroom. My personal best was eight, but we both had been particularly pent up that one time (we play this game occasionally). In any case, once we reached our room, my ass was glowing from his "punishment," and I was panting and probably drooling a bit from our little battle.

He threw me roughly onto the bed and his eyes flashing somewhat ominously, he pounced, his lumbering frame looming over me. I always got a bit of a thrill when I thought of how easily this huge guy could _destroy_ me. Hell, he kicked my ass the first time we met, and ever since then just imagining—like I was now—how dangerous my big, kind, sweet Launchpad _could be_ really got me going. 

LP's mouth was sucking hard and nibbling on my neck— _hello, turtleneck tomorrow_ —and he pulled away only to roughly pull my shirt and vest up over my head, flinging them somewhere behind him. Not to be outdone, I ripped off his scarf and tugged at his pants, dipping them enough so I could see the V of his hips, pointing to the promised land.

He flung off his shirt, revealing that wonderful chest that I couldn't help but drool over even when he was clothed. Honestly, even when we were working on a case or out on patrol, it was hard for me to keep my hands to myself, and I usually didn’t. 

LP’s eyes were smoky as he then finally peeled off those annoying pants, and even though I'd seen it thousands of times (okay, so maybe _thousands_ is somewhat of an exaggeration), I gasped a bit at how big and thick he was. My mouth was watering, and before he could do anything, I dove towards him, face first in his crotch, and in two seconds flat I was gulping him down. People made fun of me sometimes—I’m talking about _you_ , jerks from high school—for having a well, _larger than average_ beak, but times like this it came in handy. Well, not literally handy, because I didn’t need hands or anything else when I could take every inch of him in my mouth, at least when I was on the down stroke. Whenever I went down on him- which, slutty as it may sound, I did as often as I could because honestly I fucking _loved_ sucking his cock—my mouth would always just ooze buckets of saliva (which was a little embarrassing because _how damn horny does that make me look?_ ) but it eased the slipperiness and slidiness of it all, and tonight’s session of sucking him off was just as sloppy, slick and sopping wet as always. He groaned with pleasure, rubbing my back and top of my head gingerly as I ravenously deep throated him. I purposefully made as many obscene sounds as possible to rile him up, humming and moaning around his dick and slurping so loud even the damn Muddlefoots next door could probably hear. The annoying Mrs. Muddlefoot and her recent meddling at the neighborhood barbecues distantly came to mind, and as I lustily lapped at Launchpad’s length, I thought ruefully, _Here’s your hint, Binkie. I'm gay as fuck. Stop trying to set me up with random friends of yours._

Seemingly not wanting to come yet, LP finally, (and a little _shakily_ , I smirked to myself proudly) pushed me off and back onto my well, _back_. Looming over me, he kissed me furiously, surely tasting a bit of himself on my wet lips, as his hands traveled southward. He palmed my aching cock, which was leaking profusely and began to deftly massage me. Enjoying the sensation but not wanting to come yet either, I pushed his hand lower, as I lifted my hips a little. He glanced at me, seeking confirmation.

“Get me ready for you,” I murmured, and his face flushing, LP seemingly summoned lube from another dimension, he found it so fast. He poured a decent amount on his littlest finger ( _which,_ I thought with an excited gulp _, was still kinda big..)_ and circled my entrance. Impatient, I pushed forward, pressing myself so the finger would slip inside, to which LP gasped a bit, apparently surprised at my enthusiasm. I gritted my teeth a bit at the sensation, but I _could_ and _would_ take so much more. LP kissed me again as he added another finger, stretching me nice and wide.

Finally, I'd had enough. I whispered in his ear, “Stop messing around, LP. I'm going to go insane if you're not inside me in the next five seconds.”

Apparently, he too was going nuts, because I didn't have to tell him twice. Within two seconds he had my legs propped up over his arms and he was gripping my hips, lining himself up. At the fourth second mark he was pressing his generously lubed organ slightly at my entrance, and he looked at me, seeking my consent before he went for it. “Is this okay, DW—?”

“Mm-hmm. Give it to me, LP,” I whispered hungrily, cutting him off. And he sunk in, slowly. Half-in he paused as I tried to adjust to his massive girth. Sometimes—well, for us _every time_ —no amount of stretching gets you ready for this kind of dick. I grunted as my body came to terms with being stuffed with Launchpad. Eventually I got used to it, and the pain and discomfort started to be increasingly replaced with pleasure. My face must have relaxed, because then LP started moving, and my pleasure increased tenfold.

I gasped when he bottomed out, because God _damn_ he filled me up so deeply it was like I could feel him all the way up in my chest. Every few thrusts he would tickle a particular bundle of nerves and stars would flash before my eyes, delicious sensations radiating throughout my body. _Holy shit, yeah, this was definitely better than TV or checkers_. My face burned as I listened to the rhythmic, dirty sound of the rapid, slick, wet slapping between us—a highly specific, particular sound that really couldn't be mistaken for anything else other than that of some good, old-fashioned fucking. He started going a little faster, and before long it felt so good I was moaning, albeit somewhat stereotypically, varying between wailing his name, the housewifey-sounding “Oh God! Oh God!” and when the dicking felt especially toe-curlingly tasty, I couldn’t help but cry out what was apparently my favorite sex moan, which was simply a stream of expletives, often timed to his thrusts: “ _FuckfuckfuckFUCK_!” This last one seemed to be his favorite too, because he whenever I threw my head back and started whining this choice phrase, he would grit his teeth and furiously pound into me, amplifying the pleasure for us both.

The more frantic he got, the more our bed groaned beneath us. Usually we tried to be a little more covert about our lovemaking, since there's typically a kid in the house. Don't want to scar her for life and all that. But with Gos gone tonight it didn't matter how much noise we made, so we were a bit belligerent about it. I made an incredible fuss, thrashing about, raking my fingers along LP’s chest, wailing, and saying the nastiest things I could think of as he gave it to me harder than he had in a while. I could feel my orgasm building, so I started working myself over as I stared downwards, watching LP completely rail me. Not only did it feel silky and satisfying, there was something mesmerizing about watching and feeling him thrusting deep in me, disappearing and reappearing within a matter of milliseconds. I was so close I was starting to drool, and, judging from the faraway look in Launchpad's eyes, he wouldn't be able to keep it up— _literally_ —for too much longer, either.

When he slowed down just a bit, that apparently was _exactly_ what I needed to go over the edge, and I came violently, yelping in a lot higher pitched voice than I cared for anyone other than LP to know. Not counting the semen I had inadvertently spilled on LP, I also had copious amounts on my hand, stomach, and chest, and I think even a little bit managed to cling to my chin. Smirking at the thought that now I probably looked every bit like a messy little whore, I gave Launchpad my sluttiest smoldering look, which shocked him so much he was thrown off his rhythm. Seeing me looking up like that at him, flushed and covered in my own ejaculate—I hate being dirty, usually, so this might be kind of a fetish for him—was apparently too much for Launchpad, it seemed, because his mouth started twisting and he went completely bonkers, fucking me hard and deep into the mattress with such a frenzy you’d think his life depended on it. While I knew my ass could take this punishment, I thought the bed would collapse with his furious thrusting. With a loud groan, he came, spurting pulse after pulse of hot cum into me as I encouragingly squeezed his narrow hips with my legs. Thrusting slower and slower as he rode out his orgasm, LP sighed heavily but contentedly, and gradually pulled out. He then gently rolled off of me, and laid on his side, facing me while I remained on my back. We were both totally drenched in sweat, and the room reeked as a result of our recent raunchy romp. He placed a hand softly on my sticky chest.

"Gee, uh…that was intense." He blushed, looking at the ceiling.

"Um, yeah…" As if we hadn’t just finished fucking not _twenty seconds_ ago, I blushed too, feeling myself shifting back to my “normal,” somewhat reserved self. I blushed even harder when I was again instantly reminded of how we had decided to spend the evening when I felt LP’s spend start to leak slowly, _slowly_ out of my sore ass. _Oof. Better wash these sheets tomorrow_.

"You sure do love playin' games before we do it, don’tcha DW?" LP said, smiling, as he petted the side of my face. I guess by “games” he was referring to my pretend feverishness from earlier. It’s not like I have all sorts of naughty games I like to play with him because I’m addicted to being sort of a tease. _Definitely not_.

"Well, yeah…I guess I like to play a _little_ hard to get," I conceded, pouting a little, but then went on the offensive. "Otherwise you'd get so tired of me just _begging_." I emphasized the last word so he would know exactly _what_ I would be begging for. His face burned a little at that, and my nasty side couldn’t resist making another appearance.

"Seriously, who _wouldn’t_ beg for the chance to suck and get dicked down good by that fat cock?” Shocked, LP gulped, his face going as red as his hair, and he buried his face into my neck. I simply licked my lips hungrily as I considered what I just said, already thinking about Round Two. 

It was his turn to shock me a little, but he was more subtle. "You don't ever need to _beg_ , DW…" He whispered hotly against my skin, the implication sending renewed heat radiating to my loins. He pressed several kisses against my skin, and I hummed at how nice his mouth felt.

I gently pulled his face up a bit and looked deep into his eyes. I smiled at him, my heart fluttering. "You do know that I love you, Launchpad McQuack?"

He beamed up at me, and again I was awash in his handsome gaze. "Yeah, I know." He waited for a few beats, as I started to become irate because _why wasn't he saying it back—_

"I love you too, Drake Mallard," he said, and cut me off from whatever I was about to say by kissing me deeply. His kiss carrying me away, I was glad he shut me up. Because yeah, I really do talk too much.


	2. Launchpad's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake and Launchpad's daughter Gosalyn is sleeping over at a friend's house, so they're alone for the night, and decide to take advantage of it.
> 
> WARNING: This is PORN. Specifically, slash porn. There's no two ways about this, people--it's explicit descriptions of cartoon characters having sex. So, if you're not here for two domestic ducks from the Disney Freaking Afternoon getting it on, then please avoid this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is the story from Drake's perspective. In the beginning, it might be unclear whether or not he and LP are even a thing, but Drake's thinking that way intentionally just to rile himself up (similar to pretending your significant other whom you've been with for YEARS is a Mysterious Stranger).
> 
> The second chapter is the same story from Launchpad's perspective. He is more matter of fact about all of it, but goes along with DW's games because he loves him.
> 
> I wrote this with the 1991 characterizations in mind, but it might be possible to imagine the newer versions of the characters in this too, maybe?

"Heh, heh, looks like it's gonna be just us tonight, right, DW?"

I grinned down at DW, as he looked at me a little like a deer in headlights. He tugged at his collar, and got a bit pink in the face.

I knew he hated watching _Pelican’s Island_ , but I invited him over to the couch anyway to join me. Gosalyn sometimes liked to watch it with me, but tonight she was over at a friend’s house, so it was just me and DW for a night in. Taking up my invitation, DW sidled up next to me, our hands and legs brushing a bit. He didn't make a move to grab my hand, but he looked very much like he wanted to. So finally, I took his hand, smiling at him, which made him blush cutely again. We held hands like that for quite a while. It was fun, watching TV and sitting here with DW, who strangely wasn't complaining about the TV show. Maybe he was _finally_ starting to get why this show is so great! That dream quickly faded though, because I slowly realized that he kept stealing glances at me instead, and when I would turn slightly to look back at him and try to catch him staring, he'd pretend to be watching the show, with a bored expression. Huh. I guess he didn't really want to watch TV then. Then, what…?

During a commercial, I turned to face him. "You're a little quiet tonight, DW…"

He looked a bit pouty. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“Oh, gee, well. I know you hate _Pelican’s Island_ , but you haven't said anything. Usually by this point you’d’ve roasted the whole cast by now.” DW nodded, looking somewhat thoughtful. 

“Anyway, I thought maybe there's something on your mind?" We were still holding hands, so I placed my off hand on top of the hand that I was already clutching, rubbing it softly, making a little DW hand sandwich. 

DW gazed up at me, looking at me with an unreadable expression. Time to be a bit more direct. I clicked off the TV, so there’d be no distractions. "Everything alright? Do you… want anything?” He squirmed a little. Hmm. Not good enough yet. 

“We could do something _else_ if you want..." I punctuated the words “something else” by shooting him the most intense, heated stare I could muster, a look letting him know I was ready to take him to bed and make a downright sticky mess of him. I decided to suggest this to him because I had a _pretty good_ feeling DW was wanting something _verrrry_ particular from me tonight, and it had nothing to do with TV and more to do with spending our night in with some nice, quality time between the sheets.

Finally getting what I meant— _or was he just pretending not to get it before?_ — DW turned beet red and jumped off the couch, averting his gaze shyly. He looked so adorable. "Is it hot in here? I'll just go turn the thermostat down," he stammered and ran into the kitchen, ignoring the thermostat as he fled. What was all that about? It seemed like he wanted me to follow him.

DW was standing near the sink, splashing water on his face but looking like it wasn't helping to bring his flushed cheeks back to normal. He turned around and swiftly bumped right into me. He placed his hands on my chest, acting like he was going to push me away, but I could feel him squeeze my pecs slightly, and letting his hands linger there, he never did push me away. He looked hungry, but probably not for a sandwich. Honestly, I could go for both—having a nice roll in the sack with DW and then maybe grabbing some grub later.

"You OK, DW? I'm kinda worried about you," I said softly, placing my hands on his little shoulders. His eyes fluttered slightly at my touch, and he barely suppressed a dirty little moan. I could feel my pants tighten a bit at this, cause holy _shit_ , it definitely seemed like he was DTF all right.

"I, err, I'm okay, LP. I just feel a little overheated," he said breathlessly. Well, he did kinda look like he'd been out in the sun too long, but this all kinda sounded like some sorta excuse to me. Especially when he kept licking his lips and looking me up and down like that.

"You do look a bit flushed, DW," I admitted. "But if that's the case, why didn't you turn the temperature down? You ran right by the thermostat." DW cringed at that, probably hoping I wouldn't have noticed.

"Force of habit, I guess. Keeping it at exactly the same temperature…that's what dads do, right?" He shrugged, and gave me a nervous grin. Yeah, _riiight._

All this was typical DW, right here. He kept looking at me like he desperately wanted me to screw him silly right here in our kitchen, but he kept saying all kinds of other stuff. It was kinda confusing, but he liked games like this. If I kept playing along, it usually paid off in a big way. Pent-up DW did some pretty hot and dirty stuff.

Keeping this in mind, I dropped my hands to the front of the little green sweater thing DW loves to wear, and gently caressed the fabric there. I could hear DW inhale sharply.

Tugging a bit at the fabric, I said, "Well, you could take this off if you don't want to mess with the thermostat." His eyes became a bit cloudy at what I said, but suddenly he shook his head.

"I-it's part of a whole ensemble, LP. I have to wear it with my signature salmon shirt," he said with some authority. I didn't get why he always said "salmon" instead of "pink." Maybe he really likes fish? "This look falls apart if the shirt's without the vest or vice versa."

I let my hands run along DW’s sides, ending at the bottom edge of his sweater and where it and his fish (?) shirt met. He was leaning enthusiastically into my touch.

I hooked a couple of fingers under the hem. "Ya know, to not, uh, make your ‘look fall apart,’ you could just take it _all_ off," I whispered, feeling a blush creep over my face as I said this, thinking about how hot it would be if I got him naked right here, dropped my pants and just gave it to him right up against the kitchen counter.

He would’ve looked grumpy if not for all his blushing and how he kept flashing me bedroom eyes. "If I did that, LP, then I would be naked and that would be..." he trailed off, reddening even further, his mind obviously going in a similar dirty direction.

"Hot?" I offered, and pulled up his tiny shirt a little, so his cute stomach was exposed. I wanted to kiss it all over, but for now I caressed it, feeling his toned muscles as I did so. One hand predictably wandered to his pert little bottom—holy _damn_ was it hard to ignore sometimes that he didn't ever wear pants—enjoying the plump feeling and petting his fluffy tail feathers. DW was practically melting in my arms, and his eyes had gone completely dark. I was looking forward to this part, where DW would go from being all shy and reserved to outright bold and a bit of a freak.

Like I thought, finally tired of pretending to be coy, DW suddenly grabbed my scarf and tugged me down—if only I had a nickel for every time _that_ happened— and began hungrily kissing me, his tongue licking roughly against my own. This sent heat straight to my already throbbing crotch. He tasted like something icy, like a peppermint, reminding me of winter and snow days spent lazing in front of a fire. I squeezed his ass a bit more strongly now, and growling into my mouth, he threw his arms around my neck and hitched up his legs so I could pick him up more easily.

He always said he didn't like to be carried, said it was "duhmeening" or something like that, but I think he was lying, because he didn't protest when I hooked his legs up over my arms and cradled him as I made the way to our bedroom. Since I was holding him while he was facing me, of course we were locking lips the whole way, but he was making it harder— _heh_ —for me to function by occasionally giving me such a deep and hot tongue-filled kiss that I got dizzy and had to pause, otherwise I would probably trip and fall over. I crash planes, not my own body (usually!). Whenever I’d recover from his teasing I would lightly swat at his rear, giving him a little something in return for that kind of naughty behavior. Seeming to really like that, he moaned and deeply kissed me again. I peppered his ass with a few more spanks, and was rewarded with even more delicious kisses. This kept going until finally I made it to our bedroom. My mouth felt a bit swollen from all the vigorous kissing, and no doubt DW was feeling the glow from the little “punishments” I kept giving him.

I tossed DW roughly on the bed, noticing the blush on his ass from my spanks. God that would be so hot if it still glowed so pink tomorrow, especially if he was in his Darkwing gear… _Hmm_ , I thought, _gonna save that image to memory for later, for a time when he wasn’t around, or maybe if I’m bored in the Thunderquack..._ He was gazing at me dreamily, and I wrapped my arms around his tiny frame, kissing and sucking at his neck, feeling his rapid pulse there. I paused a moment to tear off his shirt and vest thing and tossed them behind me. Now naked and obviously not wanting to be the only one, he responded by pulling off my scarf and tugging maddeningly at my pants. They were more difficult to take off, though, so he only managed to pull them down to the middle of my hips, giving him only a hint of what they were hiding.

I pulled off my shirt, tossing it aside. As I did so I could hear DW’s breath hitch. He always seemed to really like it when I showed off my upper body, which made me feel good but a little embarrassed. But whenever I took off my _pants_ it was on a whole different level. It was like his mouth and my crotch were magnets, and this time was no different. Within three seconds of me taking my pants off, he had closed the gap between us and he had me completely engulfed in his mouth, licking and sucking and slurping more and more intensely with each passing moment. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations of that dirty mouth of his. Apparently, the sloppier the blowjob the better was DW’s motto (well, other than “let's get dangerous;” hell, the _head_ he gave was dangerous, I thought blissfully) and he always gave the most eager, wettest, and sloppiest I'd ever gotten. Who would have guessed that the hero of St. Canard would be so good at sucking cock, I thought, trembling as he ravenously took my whole length, gulping me down deep over and over, his tongue flicking in just the right way to make me see stars. God damn he was loud, too, moaning and humming around my dick like that and making all these slick, squishy wet sounds with his mouth as he bobbed up and down. It was completely driving me up the wall. I knew if he kept going I was in trouble, and so was he if you thought about it. With a little regret I gently pushed him off me and onto his back.

The sight of him with his mouth shining wetly, fresh off my dick, with his face feathers all ruffled made my heart skip. I kissed him deeply, tasting myself a bit on his mouth, and reached down, taking his own straining arousal in my hand. I was just starting to massage him when he lifted his hips and pushed my hand farther south. Although I had an idea where he was going with this, I paused, wanting him to let me know exactly what he wanted.

"Get me ready for you," he murmured, his voice silky and dark, which made my face burn. I found the lube so quick I could have set some kind of record. Because DW was so small, I poured a good amount on my smallest finger, which still looked like it might be a bit too much for the little guy. Tentatively I rubbed my finger around his entrance, and he shocked me when he suddenly pushed forward, causing my finger to be buried inside him. He was gritting his teeth, obviously in discomfort, so I gave him slow, tender kisses to help soothe him as I gradually opened him up. Eventually I was able to add another finger, stretching him slowly. I pumped my fingers in and out and from side to side, getting him as ready as he could be.

He seemed to have run out of patience, though, when he whispered huskily, "Stop messing around, LP. I'm going to go insane if you're not inside me in the next five seconds." _Guh_. His words went straight to my groin, reigniting my already stiff arousal. Within two seconds I had lubed myself up and was hovering between DW’s legs, which I had draped up over my arms. I lined myself up, and looked down at him for confirmation. "Is this OK, DW—?"

"Mm-hmm. Give it to me LP," he whispered, cutting me off. And so I sunk in, slowly as I could, not wanting to hurt DW, because, not to be boastful or anything, but this was kinda like trying to put 10lbs of, err, me in a 2lb bag (in other words, DW’s tight little ass). Even after all the stretching, he was still a really tight fit and I had to be careful. 

He eventually began to relax, though, and I started to move a little more in him. I very gradually was able to push all the way in, feeling our bodies become flush, which made DW gasp a bit. I then started a regular rhythm, and DW looked like he was in heaven. Every now and then I would thrust just right, because he started to cry out. Heh, even in bed he loved to run his mouth. Sometimes he would cry, "Launchpaaad!" in a kinda whiny, needy voice as I slid rhythmically in and out of him, each slick thrust sounding nice, dirty and wet. And then other times he'd wail, "Oh God! Oh God!" sounding like somebody getting nailed, which I guess he was. But it was somehow even hotter when I was really giving it to him hard and deep, making him bounce a little against the mattress, and he would just let loose a stream of "FuckfuckfuckFUCK!" Since we have a kid, he almost never uses that kind of language, so it really riles me up when he does use it, and it’s nearly always in a context where I’m between his legs, sucking or fucking him. When he cried it this time, his wails only amplified how good his ass felt clamped around my cock and I couldn't help but pound into his wet heat with extra gusto, causing our bed to start squeaking like crazy.

Normally we worried a bit about Gos hearing us, so if we were gonna do it we'd be much quieter on a regular night. But since she wasn't here tonight, it didn't matter how much noise we made. DW for one was being all kinds of loud and kind of rough. He thrashed around, raked at my chest and arms, and wailed with complete abandon as I gave him a deep and thorough fucking he wouldn’t likely forget anytime soon. I wouldn’t forget it either, especially because he also kept moaning various things about me filling him up with my cum and fucking him so good he couldn't walk tomorrow, and other stuff that caused me to flush deeply and made my head spin.

I knew he was close because he started pumping himself wildly as I slammed into him. I was getting close too, the slick sensations of his wet, irresistible heat sliding deliciously around my cock becoming more and more intense to the point where I had to fight off my orgasm. When I slowed just a bit, it must have been the sweet spot because he came violently between us, his voice a lot higher than normal, making him sound a little like a squeaky toy. I rocked in and out of him slowly as he rode out his orgasm, and the murky look he gave me after he'd finished about made me come on the spot. He was dripping with his own ejaculate, and looked flushed, ruffled and dirty and every bit like he had gotten the fucking of his life, but the sizzling, haughty glare he shot me dared me to fuck him harder. I couldn't handle it. He braced himself as I went completely insane, gripping his little hips and just fucking the absolute shit out of him. RIP our bed. I soon began to climax and let out a long moan as my vision went white and I began to paint the inside of DW roughly the same color. He squeezed my hips with his legs as I spurted inside him, as if he was wringing me dry. My thrusting got slower and slower as the ripples died down, and sighing with contentment, I slowly slipped out of him and laid down next to him. He and I both were slick with sweat and other fluid, and not surprisingly, the room completely reeked of sex. I placed a hand on his sweaty and sticky chest. Looking thoroughly worn out—and no doubt he _was_ —he gave me a sleepy-eyed, soft smile.

"Gee, uh, that was intense," I said, embarrassed a little at my uh, enthusiasm there at the end.

DW looked shy too. "Um, yeah.." he said, blushing and squirming a bit. Probably some of my, err, _cargo_ was starting to leak out.

"You sure do love playin' games before we do it, dontcha DW?" I teased as I petted his flushed face, referring to how he kept pretending to be overheated and all that earlier. 

"Well, I like to play a little hard to get," he pouted at me, but then looked at me reproachfully. "Otherwise you'd get so tired of me just _begging_." I felt an interested twinge between my legs, as I had a feeling that I knew exactly _what_ he’d be begging me for, and my face burned a little at the thought.

His eyes darkened and he looked like he was already thinking about the next time we’d be burning up the sheets. "Seriously, who _wouldn’t_ beg to suck and get dicked down good by that fat cock?” He gave me a downright ravenous look. I, err, wasn’t ready for his words or his stare. Gulping loudly, I could feel my entire body flush from the tips of my hair to the ends of my feet. _Gee, was DW insatiable!_

I buried my flushed face into his neck. It was my turn to make _him_ blush a bit, though I wasn’t going to be so direct. "You don't ever need to _beg_ , DW…" I whispered hotly against his skin, hinting that I’d happily give him _PLENTY_ anytime he wanted. I could feel the heat spreading across his neck as he processed this, and I pressed a kiss there, with him humming softly at the sensation.

He gently touched my face, lifting it up a bit so that he could look deep into my eyes. "You do know that I love you, Launchpad McQuack?"

I blushed and beamed up at him. "Yeah, I know." To tease him a bit, I simply left it at that. Sure enough, he started to look a little miffed. He opened his mouth, and before he could say anything, I said,

"I love you too, Drake Mallard," and pressed my mouth firmly to his, enjoying the feeling of him yet again melting in my embrace.


End file.
